MoreThanWords (6 page)

“Do you have my Scrabble board?”

“Yes. In the living room.”

“Let’s go in there and play.”

“Scrabble?”

“Yeah.” For starters. He nodded for her to lead the way,
then followed close behind. “But with a twist. Truth or Dare Scrabble.” She
stopped abruptly, half-spinning to face him. Pure, automatic reflexes saved her
white blouse from his juice. The floor didn’t get so lucky. “Shit. Sorry.”

“You can get a ticket for following too close, you know.”
Her tone was scolding, but her lips had curved into a playful smile he could
easily get addicted to.

“I’ll clean it up, officer.”

“You set up the board. I’ll take care of the spill.”

Luck had been on his side when he found the vintage portable
Scrabble game in a pawn shop. His full-size board wouldn’t have fit in his
pocket. But this thing had seen better days. “I’m not sure if all the tiles are
here.”

“You could count them.”

Or he could stare at the hem of her skirt lifting higher up
her smooth, taut hamstrings as she rubbed a cloth over the hardwood in a
circular motion. He’d never heard of houndstooth before tonight, but he
certainly had a new appreciation for it.

She peeked over her shoulder—probably because he hadn’t
answered—and caught him ogling her backside. “So? How’s the situation?”

“Pretty fantastic.”

“The game,” she said, mock-scolding again. She repositioned
from all-fours to her knees, ass resting on her heels with her hands folded in
her lap. “Do we have all the stuff we need to play?”

Hell yes, they did. “I think we’ll be good.” Very good.

She arched her back slightly in a stretch. “Then I’ll put
this away and be right back.”

Give him strength, because he was sure going to need it once
the game started. He set things up on the coffee table. Not good enough. He’d
be able to see her through the glass top and iron frame, but she’d still be too
far away. He scanned the room for something he could use to support the board
and came up with a wide, hardcover book about stones. That’d do. By the time
she came from the kitchen, he had their game waiting on the middle cushion of
the couch. Close enough to touch her if the opportunity arose and give him a
full view even if it didn’t.

“Here.” She handed him a fresh glass of juice. This one had
a straw. A pink one—the bendy kind. Exactly right for her.

“Thanks. This is a nice little apartment.”

“Little being the operative word.”

“It’s not bad. Looks about the same as mine.” From what he
could see, the place was compact, but not cramped or claustrophobic. Where his
was stark white with only the basic, necessary items, hers was cozy and warm,
with cream-colored walls and furniture, pinks and purples adding color to
everything from pillows and pictures to the cup in his hand. The place reminded
him of her—feminine but not overdone. Natural in the best ways.

She dragged a donut-shaped doggie bed from the corner.
“Charming, come. No, not on the couch, on your bed.”

The tiny dog that’d been at her heels since she’d set him down
obeyed, but he didn’t look thrilled about it. Maybe it was the name as much as
being relegated to the floor. Not exactly the coolest tag at the dog park.

“Your dog’s name is Charming?”

“Technically, it’s Prince Charming.”

Poor dog. No wonder he was doing the canine version of a
scowl. “I don’t think he likes you telling me his secrets.”

“The curled-lip thing? Ignore it, he’s all show. He’s not
used to visitors. Or strangers. Or men in general.”

Mental note—bring dog treats next time. Also noted, Calli’s relationship
habits. She probably got a lot of offers, but from the sound of it, she didn’t
give out many invites to her personal space. More reason not to screw up the
one he had.

“Ready to play?” he asked after she settled onto the couch
across from him. The way she’d arranged her legs beneath her created a tunnel
up the middle. With the short skirt riding up toward her hips, that opening
afforded him the tiniest hint of pink. Panties that she’d had her hand inside
not so long ago.
It’s wet in my panties
…her exact words. He forced his
eyes up, following the line of buttons he very much wanted to rip off with his
teeth so he could see the treasures contained in her polka-dot bra. By the time
he got to her face, her cheeks were pretty pink.

Either she read minds or he’d left his mask at home.

She picked up the vinyl bag with the tiles and shook it.
“Should we pull tiles to see who goes first?”

“Not necessary. I’m a firm believer in ladies first, for
everything.” He wouldn’t have thought the color of her skin could go much
deeper pink, but it did. Delicate fingers toyed with the buttons near her tits,
the glossy dark-purple tips against the white taunting him, whether she
intended it or not. “Nice nails.”

“They’re sort of extreme, I know. I’m not really a makeup
kind of girl, but I love loud nail polish.”

“It suits you—the nail polish is sexy. As for makeup, you
don’t need it.”

“You’re quite the flatterer.”

If she only knew how wrong she was. He’d been less than kind
on more occasions than he’d like to count. “No, I’m just getting warmed up for
our game. All truth from here out, Calli.”

She blinked rapidly while fiddling with the tiles on her
rack. “I’ve never heard of Truth or Dare Scrabble. How do you play?”

Time for some quick thinking to back up his suggestion.
Rules that’d help him get to know her…and get past those damn buttons. “Same as
regular Scrabble, but after we each make a play, the person with the lower
scoring word has to answer a truth or dare.”

“Dictionary or no?”

“If you need one, sure.”

She laughed, full out. More than the little giggle that’d
escaped while they were in her store earlier. That had been cute. The low,
mildly husky quality of her voice carried into this laugh, and it was anything
but cute—it was make-your-cock-ache sexy.

“I don’t need a book to beat you.” Something that looked
suspiciously like smugness slid across her face. “You aren’t one of those
sore-loser types, are you?”

Whether they ended up naked or not, this was going to be
fun.

Chapter Five

“Make your move, sweetheart.”

He’d called her that online, and earlier too. Hearing it in
his deep voice, having his eyes on her and seeing his lips form the most
incredible smile while he called her
sweetheart
…gah. If she had a speck
of courage, she’d forfeit the game and jump into his lap. That’s what her
sister would do. What any normal woman would do.

So it was truth or dare time. She’d played with her friends
a few times back in the middle-school grades. Questions about the boys they
liked, if they ever put tissue in their bras, stuff like that. They’d dared
each other to phone their crushes and say silly things. Easy stuff, compared to
what this game would be like. But she couldn’t wait. This was a game she
couldn’t lose, regardless of the score.

“
Block
, double-letter score for the K and a
double-word score…thirty-six points.” She looked up at him while digging into
the bag for replacement tiles. “Aren’t you going to write it down?”

He smiled and jotted the number under her initial. “You’ve
got a competitive streak, don’t you?”

“If you want me to answer that, it’ll cost you a word worth
at least thirty-seven points.”

“
When
I beat you this round, that won’t be my
question.”

“Good luck with that.” Calli could list the amount of things
she felt confident about on one hand. Her Scrabble skills were on that list.
Thousands of hours playing against a computer instead of having real social
connections didn’t seem like such a waste now. Using her nerdiness against
Travis—only the most attractive man she’d ever been within handling range of—brought
out a cocky side she didn’t know she possessed. By the huge smile on his face,
she guessed he didn’t mind it. Good, because she kind of liked it too.

Travis draped one arm over the back of her couch. The
long-sleeved indigo t-shirt hugged his forearm, shoulder and biceps. Solid, all
of it, with two very nice, very hard balls of muscle. Thank god he had his eyes
fixed on the game, because ogling him while thinking about the words
hard
and
balls
made her nipples tighten. Shifting position didn’t help. In
fact, the satin buffing those hard peaks shot an arrow of need straight between
her legs. Trying to get comfortable in the short skirt was bad enough. No way
could she adjust in any way that’d give her some…relief. At least her situation
wasn’t obvious. By his incessant tapping of a tile against the game board, it
appeared he was clueless about her situation.
Tap, tap, tap.
Pause.
Tap, tap, tap.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you the first time around.”
Holy god, who was this woman talking, because it sure wasn’t her. Whatever had
possessed her, it wasn’t letting go, either. “I’ll ask you a nice, safe
question.”

His eyes flicked upward. “Yeah?” Pure mischief there. “I
don’t have the same plan for you.” Methodically, he placed his tiles, making
eye contact between each one. P, R, I, then a skip over the existing C, blank
tile, L, E. “The blank is a—”

“K.” Oh boy.

“It is.
Prickle
, spanning two double-word scores, is
forty points.”
Tap
,
tap
,
tap
, went the last tile in his
hand. Then he laid it on the board. “But
prickled
is worth forty-eight
and it’s also a bingo.”

Oh shit.

“For ninety-eight points. And the rules state,” he jotted
his score under his initial, “that a bingo gets me a truth
and
a dare.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “You didn’t tell me that
before my turn.”

“So you had a bingo, but you chose not to play it?” His hand
dipped into the bag for seven new tiles. “Now you know for next time.”

“Not fair, Travis.”

“You’re incredibly cute when you pout.” He leaned forward,
over the board, and touched her knee oh-so-lightly. “But you’ve got the sexiest
voice I’ve ever heard—say my name again.”

He had to be able to hear her heart as it galloped up her
throat. She swallowed to keep it from leaping from her mouth when she spoke.
“Is that your dare?” Did she want him to say yes or no…even she didn’t know.

“No, sweetheart, you don’t get off that easily.”

One big whoop popped out of her mouth. “Sorry, occupational
hazard of working in a store that sells sexy accessories—everything starts to
sound dirty, and you said—”

“Get off.” His thumb stroked the crease of her folded leg.
Back and forth, dipping into the crevice the tiniest bit. Her body didn’t miss
the hint. It took conscious effort not to open her legs wider and invite him to
tickle another, better crevice.

“Truth or dare, Calli?”

“I-I thought I had to do both.”

“You do. But I’ll let you choose the order.”

“Dare.”

The movement on her leg stopped. “I thought you’d pick
truth.”

“You thought wrong…
Travis
.” The heat in his stare
caused her to stumble over her words, stretching the two syllables of his name
into a long whisper. She might as well have said
fuck me now
. He’d have
to be an idiot not to know that’s what she was thinking. And Travis was most
definitely not an idiot.

“Take off your skirt.”

Holy shit. Her eyes hurt, they bugged out of her head so
far. “Don’t I get a warm-up dare first? Something…easier?”

“I would’ve told you to take off your stockings, but you
beat me to it. Your heels too. You didn’t leave me a lot of options.”

“Can we negotiate?” The way he’d been staring at her chest,
she’d expected the top to go first. That wouldn’t be such a big deal—a bra
wasn’t much different from a bikini top, right? “How about my blouse instead?”

“No, the pretty shirt stays on for now.” Eyes bright with
obvious desire worked their way up, as if he was mentally unbuttoning each and
every tiny pearl. “But I am willing to make a deal. You can keep the skirt.”

“If you don’t want the blouse and you’re letting me keep the
skirt, what do you want? For me to…do something?” Because if he ordered her to
her knees, she’d be on them in a second.

His head shook slightly as a sly smile stretched across his
face. “Not yet. But I am looking forward to seeing you dance.”

“Oh no. I don’t dance. Not in front of people.” The thought
of dancing in front of another human being filled her stomach with a thousand
flitting butterflies.

“Then you’d better not lose too many rounds. You dancing for
me is staying on my dare list, Calli. I’m just not sure if I want you dressed
or naked when you do it.”

Oh dear god. Daring her to suck his cock or bend over the
couch—those things she might be able to handle. Wanted to handle. If he made
her dance, or sing, she might keel over. This date would end with Travis
watching her hyperventilate, not gyrate. “I can’t dance, Travis. I really
can’t.”

The devil disappeared from his expression. He moved from his
end of the couch to crouch on the floor at her hip. His hands slid over her—one
on her bare leg, the other on the small of her back. Even through the cotton,
her skin electrified under his palm.

“Like I said in my message earlier—I’ll only do things that
you want. That includes the dares. If you take them, it won’t be because you
have to—it’ll be because you want to.”

“I tell you I can’t dance and you think I’ll
want
to
dance for you before the end of one Scrabble game?”

The hand on her back traced up her spine and sifted through
her hair. Sparks exploded everywhere he touched. This kind of contact was
probably normal for him and meant nothing. Not for her. Not at all. It’d been
so long since fingers other than her own had caressed her skin, she’d forgotten
how intoxicating it could be.

He pushed off his haunches, positioning himself very close
to her face. Close enough to feel his breath mingle with hers. Close enough to
kiss her—only he didn’t.

“I’m looking forward to finding out. As for this round, the
price for keeping your skirt is your panties.”

“I accept your terms.” She stood—though he didn’t give her
much space to do so—and snaked her fingers up, under her skirt. Actually,
removing her underwear in this manner proved more difficult than she expected.
A thong would’ve been relatively simple. Reach, hook, yank. The boy-cut shorts
covered a lot more ground, and they clung to her body like skin. And the damn
skirt was ultra-close fitting. To get at the undies, she’d practically have to
shove the skirt up over her hips. Maintaining an element of mystery—or
modesty—would be next to impossible.

Travis was clearly enjoying the entire process. Hands
stuffed into his jeans’ pockets and sporting an exceptional grin, he continued
to crowd her, never taking his eyes off her. She ought to be furious or
humiliated. Instead her breasts were tingly, her clit was on high alert and the
heat between her legs ensured that the panties giving her so much trouble were
beyond damp. She’d never get them off this way.

“Troubles?”

“It’s this skirt.”

“The houndstooth one. It’s different. I like it.”

“It’s also too tight for me to take off my panties without
showing you my stuff.”

“Good thing I don’t mind if you do.”

“Travis, come on.”

The amusement slipped away, replaced by a much hungrier
smile. “Be more specific, sweetheart, especially when you’re teasing me by
saying my name in that sexy voice.”

She’d been so upset when the doctors told her the damage to
her throat was irreparable. But Travis liked her low, gravelly tone. Huh. At
least one good thing had come from the attack.

“Come on and what?” he asked while getting closer, though
that hardly seemed possible.

“Turn around.” She swallowed, trying to banish the wobble
from her voice. “You dared me to give you my panties…you never said I had to
take them off in front of you.”

“You’re right.” He gave her his back, but no extra space.
“Next time I’ll be more specific.”

Quick as she could, she wrestled the polka-dot panties from
her body, then tugged the skirt back into place. Now that she had them, what
was she supposed to do with them? Start a pile that would hopefully have some
of his clothes in it before too long? She wasn’t about to hand them over—they
were practically soaked through at the crotch, for god’s sake. A quick show
that she’d paid his price, then she’d tuck them into the couch cushions.

“Done…see?” She snapped them to his right side before he
turned around. Wrong move. Apparently Travis was a righty—one with great
reflexes. The panties now belonged to him. “Don’t—oh god, you can’t keep them,
they’re—” Soaked with her juices, for gods’ sake.

The panties went up, over her head, until they hung from his
extended arm like a flag from a flagpole. She jumped for them, to no avail. She
was short, he was tall. ’Nuff said.

“Relax. It’s like checkers or chess. I hold on to the pieces
you lose until the game’s over, that’s all.” The panties made a slow descent.
Travis’ eyes stayed on hers as he tracked the tiny garment into his back
pocket.

At least he hadn’t commented on—

“You weren’t lying about them being hot. Or wet.”

Her face burned with the heat of an August day and no
sunscreen. “Now you know,” she said, enjoying the rise of his eyebrows at her
intentionally misleading statement. “I don’t lie.”

After torturing her by ensuring that the goods in his pocket
were secure, Travis returned to his end of the couch. “Ready for your
question?”

“If I answer that, your turn will be over.”

“Then thanks for not answering.”

Settling into her spot took work. And a lot of adjusting.
Not only was the skirt
not
cooperating in her quest to conceal her
cootchie, it seemed determined to climb higher up her thighs than before. “I
should’ve given you this damn skirt.”

“Maybe next round.”

“You wouldn’t…” Leave her naked from the waist down—she bet
he might. “Question please. I have a move to make and a round to win.”

“Why isn’t your dog used to visitors, strangers or men in
general?” The question had Calli squirming as much as trying to shimmy panties
from underneath her curve-hugging skirt had. Meaning it was a good one to ask.
Sure, he’d been tempted to ask her a racier question—something about which of
the store’s sex toys she preferred or how often she used them. This was better.
Plus, it kept her off-balance, swinging between hot and serious. And she was
damn cute when she was thinking. Her pretty face and hot body would’ve been
enough to turn him on. The fact that she had a quick wit and functioning brain
made her irresistible.

“I don’t go out much.”

“That’s it?”

She kept her eyes on her tiles, moving them around on the
rack. “I answered your question.”

“Five words isn’t much of an answer.”

“You didn’t tell me there was a minimum word requirement.
You really should’ve been more
specific
.”

Damn, she had him again. Hung by his own comments.

She looked up at him, a hint of naughty in those big eyes.
“You can buy more words…if you want to.”

Changing the game on him—he liked it. “What’ll it cost me,
and for how many?” The wheels turned as she perused him. Her eyes might as well
have been her hands, because the effect was the same. Not that he hadn’t been
ogled before. It used to be a turn-on, knowing women wanted him, but it’d lost
its novelty. Under Calli’s openly appreciative gaze, though, his skin heated
and his cock swelled. God help him if she asked for his pants.

“Three complete sentences for your shirt.”

“Deal. Sentences first.”

“No way. I need inspiration.”

Spunky and not a total pushover. He liked her more by the
second. “Bare skin for a bare soul?”

“Exactly.”

“I hope tattoos don’t offend you.” His heart notched up as
he peeled the t-shirt over his head. He’d never given it a moment’s
consideration before, that a woman might take issue with his ink. This was
different. Calli was different. She’d flirted with him sight unseen, based on
messages, not because he was on a stage. He’d wanted that—to be seen as more
than a conquest for the night, a tick off somebody’s bucket list that included
bang
a musician
.